


Bite-sized bits of Eliot - Leverage ficlets

by loveinadoorway



Category: Leverage
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway





	Bite-sized bits of Eliot - Leverage ficlets

_comment_fic prompt: Leverage, Eliot/any, black and blue_

**A different kind of collector**

He should have gone to bed.  
Yep, that would've been the smart thing to do.  
So what was he doing in this shoddy bar then? Eliot looked around himself with distaste and tossed back another whisky.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar and grimaced. Half his face was covered in one giant bruise and the rest of his body wasn't doing much better. Actually, he couldn't remember when he had last received such a brutal beating. Okay, he had been the last man standing, but he actually preferred his skin skin-colored, not black, blue, purple or what have you.

He frowned at his reflection, then caught sight of a guy at a table behind him, giving him the eye in the mirror.  
The stranger lifted his glass in salute and took a drink.  
Eliot pondered the matter for a second, then toasted the guy back with his own glass. He took the remaining small sip and signalled the bartender for another one.

"Rough day at the office?" a quiet, low voice said close to his ear.  
Eliot snorted a laugh. "Could say so."  
He clinked his shot glass against the other man's and smiled. "Name's Eliot. Could I interest you in my bruise collection?"  
"Bruise collection? Whatever happened to good old stamps?" the man said with a smirk.  
"Stamps look the same each day. My collection changes on a daily basis. Wanna see?"

~~~

_comment_fic prompt: Leverage, Eliot (or Eliot/Author's Choice), What did he do with his payout from the Nigerian Job?_

Payment, payout, payback  
It would never be enough.

The minute he got out of the truck, he knew with absolute certainty that it would never ever be enough.  
It wasn't enough to silence the screams in his head, it wasn't enough to end the nightmares and it wouldn't ever be enough to save his soul.

He forced himself to smile at the elderly nun, nodded to whatever it was that she was saying, brushed off her attempts at thanking him for his oh so generous contribution. He wasn't paying any attention to her, his gaze was fixed on them.

They were in bad shape. Their tiny bodies huddled together, they looked at him with wide, scared eyes. He hunkered down, placing his palms on his thighs, trying to make himself look non-threatening. He smiled at them and said a few calming words in heavily accented Vietnamese.

They were safe now, away from the villages where the dirty war against drug overlords was waged on the backs of the peasants. These children had lost their parents, their homes and they had never known what "safe" meant. The nasty business had gone on since long before they had even been born.

And Eliot had played a big part in that. No matter what he did now, it would never be enough to make up for the one unforgivable mistake in Eliot's life, the one bad decision, the one time where he had really screwed up and allowed himself to be conned by the wrong side in this fight.

No, it would never be enough, but it was at least a start.

~~~

 _Another prompt at comment_fic : Leverage, Eliot + Team (or A/C pairing), One of the hits he took in Tap Out was one hit too many_  
Bit slashy, PG-13?  
Still trying this stuff on for size.... not entirely there yet.

**Holy Holy**

_I don't want to be an angel, just a little bit evil_  
Feel the devil in me  
Holy, holy  
Hold on to anyone, hold on to anyone  
But just let me be

_Bowie, Holy Holy_

Eliot woke up in a dingy hotel room.  
He had no recollection of how he got there, he was wearing clothes he normally wouldn't want to be seen dead in and his head felt like someone had given him a hairstyling with a sledge hammer.  
This was the third time it had happened. And he just knew he'd have to explain away another absence. Well, no, okay, not excactly explain it away, being that he wasn't Mr. Open Communication personified.  
He'd shrug, look threatening, mumble something like "none o' your fuckin' business" and slink off to a corner of the room.  
This time, he had a vague memory of dancing in a club. Memory of firm hands on his body, memory of leather and studs, memory of hard, hot sex in a dark corner.  
He shook himself, got up and stood by the window. More disjointed memories that rattled him more than he would ever admit.  
Eliot ran a hand over his chin.  
He should get an MRI or something. He most likely had taken too many hits to the head. That damned last job.  
He shook his head. Wandering off like this, having a completely different life like that... He couldn't tell them.  
They wouldn't let him work with them anymore if they knew.  
Dammit.  
And how the hell was he supposed to get home in broad daylight, wearing leather pants that left his butt cheeks free to the elements?

~~~

_Comment_fic prompt: Leverage, Any, I hear what you're saying, but I don't know what you mean_

**A professional job**

"We will do this without using undue violence. Clear?"

Nate looked stern.  
Eliot rolled his shoulders.  
Sure thing. They should be clinical in their use of force. Clean and detached, with no margin for error. No more force than strictly necessary. A professional job.

They almost made it back out without any issues, but then suddenly, they were surrounded by 5 guards. Heavily armed guards. Guards that looked like they meant business.  
Eliot dispatched of them. Clinically, clean, detached, without hesitation and with utter perfection.

Nate looked at the bleeding men on the ground, heaved a sigh and asked: "Eliot, which part of without undue violence didn't you understand?"

Eliot looked at Nate without any expression whatsoever, clearly waiting for an explanation of what he seemed to consider a puzzle.

"This, Eliot, this right here, see that? This is undue violence." Nate gestured expansively at the guards on the floor.

"This, Nate, this right here? This is a fuckin' necessity. Don't take me along, if you can't see that," growled Eliot, turned and walked towards the exit without looking back.


End file.
